


Waiting for the Snow

by Arsoemon



Series: ShuKita 100 [21]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Shukita - Freeform, but wait, it says character death, maybe a oneshot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsoemon/pseuds/Arsoemon
Summary: Akira went out for a simple hunting trip and found a whole world he hadn’t realized he was missing.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuKita 100 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485896
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Waiting for the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a song by Of Monsters And Men.

Akira was something of a local vagabond, and were he not so helpful around town, that might've been a problem. The town was plagued by a specter of a beast visiting mostly unseen in the night and stealing away with livestock, riches, and even the occasional young adult. Or so the rumors went. They were situated near the bottom of a particularly idealistic mountain: it was beautiful year round, almost never had rockslides or avalanches, and acted as a forgiving pass to the next few towns for locals and strangers alike.

Akira was more apt to believe the disappearances had much to do with that last one. So he didn't give much credence to Sojiro's warning to not go so far up the mountain to hunt any more. He simply thanked him for his concern and promised to be careful before setting off. With each hunt, he had gone further and further into the lesser known parts of the forest. He'd had to. His curiosity aside, the game supply was decreasing, which meant the payments from the butcher were decreasing. Sure, he had other jobs and really could afford to drop this one, but that would mean being forced into a decision, and there's not much he hated more than being confined and at the mercy of man in any capacity.

He was thinking hard about why this might be when he remembered where he was. By the time he stopped and looked around, he realized he didn't recognize anything about this part of the forest, and it was beginning to get dark. He turned in the direction he thought would lead him back the way he came and trudged through the brittle leaves until he spotted a break in the trees ahead of him. He emerged higher up on the mountain, staring at the endless expanse of pristine snow. His eyes came to rest on an arrangement of dark rocks—a cave opening. It would still be awfully cold, but spending the night here was preferable to almost certain death in the unsettlingly silent forest. He moved to the cave.

As he approached, the thought crept into his mind. Legend has it, the monster lives on the mountain. There were countless people who claimed to have seen it in the dead of night just before falling ill. The descriptions were all over the place and really could range from a four-legged beast to a taller version of Iwai the blacksmith. He quickly brushed it off, though his heart continued its protests. He froze on the spot when he saw a gray dot in his periphery.

Realizing it had been spotted, the wolf growled as it slowly approached him. He buried his chin in his cowl, protecting his throat. If he reached for his bow, he would run the risk of being short a hand should the animal lunge for him. He was preparing himself to engage with just his gloved hands when he heard muffled footsteps and the sound of dragging fabric coming from behind him. His heart raced as visions of what the townsfolk called The North Demon flashed through his mind, but he dared not take his eyes off the very real beast before him—a beast that appeared to be backing down. He heard a deep, rumbling sound from the unknown being behind him. The wolf sat obediently, much to Akira's surprise.

He was almost tempted to peek behind him to see just who—or what—could calm such a large, ferocious beast with a single sound, but the figure padded regally past him. It looked to be a tall man with long white hair dressed in robes that appeared to have once rivaled the emperor's own. The figure pulled one hand from its sleeves and tossed a bit of meat to the animal who took it almost politely and ran off. As the wolf faded into a fuzzy dot on the horizon, Akira almost began to miss it; at least it was a known adversary and not a ten foot tall bipedal folktale with potentially sinister intentions.

The figure turned to Akira, yellow eyes burning through him. He took a slow step backward, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. The figure stepped toward him, and he took another step away. This continued until Akira's back hit one of the rocks of the cave. He braced himself, not bothering to hide his fear as he stared into the humanoid eyes set into the animalistic face. The figure leaned down to eye level with him and peered into his soul once more. A small noise escaped Akira as his breathing picked up and he began to shake. The figure tilted its head as if in confusion. It removed that same wiry hand from its sleeve again and reached toward Akira.

He gasped and darted away, breaking into a run. He soon noticed he was going uphill but decided it was too late to turn back—until he realized a sheer cliff lay ahead. As he saw the dark expanse opening up before him, he skidded to a halt on his knees and turned, ready to launch himself back down the mountain. But the figure was approaching at a steady pace, apparently unaffected by the thinner air. He attempted a deep breath as he readied himself to die, preferably by falling. It seemed to sense Akira's desperation as it stopped a few paces away.

The figure raised its large pale hands much like Akira had moments before. It slowly crouched to rest its palms on the snowy ground. They stared at each other for an eternity before the figure held out a hand, beckoning Akira away from the cliff. He pulled away from the creature as he stared at its long, thin fingers and impossibly sharp nails. The figure looked at its own hand and pulled it close to itself while looking around as if for an answer.

Akira flinched as it looked at him again. The figure clenched its hands into fists, and Akira could hear a sound not unlike leather stretching. His eyes somehow widened further as he saw the now perfectly human hands of a man. One of the hands reached toward the creature's face. The solar eclipses of its eyes cooled to a bluish gray color as the hand rested on what now looked significantly more like a mask. It lowered its hand, the mask now resting on the ground, to reveal the handsome face of a young man framed by long blue hair. The man held up his hands once more, seemingly trying to convince Akira of his intentions.

Akira relaxed slightly, enough to not flinch when the man offered his hand again. He didn't accept it, but he did begin to slowly move away from the edge, maintaining a wide distance between himself and the man. He slowly rose to his feet, never once taking his eyes off the other. The new man rose to his feet as well, his clothes dragging even more now that he had shrank.

The man led the way back down toward the cave. Akira stopped outside the dark opening, still on heightened alert and hesitant to blindly trust the humanoid creature. He could see a warm glow emanating from deeper within just before the man reappeared with a lit torch in hand. He offered his hand to Akira again but seemed to have learned to not expect him to take it. The stranger stepped to the side to give Akira room to walk through, and after a few more moments of staring and shivering in the last few rays of evening sun, Akira slowly approached and followed him into the darkness.

They came to a room-like opening off one of the branching paths. The man placed the torch in a crevice in the wall before crossing the space, more torches appearing to light themselves as he draped the robe over a large stone. The man sat before the fire and gestured for Akira to join him. As leery as he was, it didn’t take much convincing; the cold was settling into his very bones now. Not long after he sat by the fire, his eyes began to feel heavy, his entire being weighed down by fatigue.

He blinked, and then he was awake again, staring into the smoldering remains of the fire. Surprisingly well rested, he moved to stretch and found his movements hindered. For a brief panicked moment, he thought the strange man had bound him to the ground, but as the haze of sleep dissipated from his mind, he saw he was restrained only by the heavy robes his host had been wearing. The man was nowhere to be found. Akira stood, gently draping the robes over the same stone he’d last seen them on before meandering toward the mouth of the cave. He could hear movement in the direction from which sunlight was streaming.

He quietly moved into what could be called a front hall. The man was standing before a wall and moving almost frantically. As Akira continued into the space, he began to make out shapes on the wall he had been too weary and wary to notice the previous evening. He stopped and stared in awe. The man was painting. Before he realized, he had breathed out a “wow,” and the man turned with a start, startling Akira in turn.

He held his hands up again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” The man seemed to relax. “You did all of this?” Akira continued to stare up at the high wall. The man nodded once and set the bowl he was working from on the ground. “It’s amazing,” he said, genuinely awestruck, and the man looked down with shy gratitude before moving to clean up a bit. The shuffling brought Akira back to the present. “Ah... Thank you... for helping me yesterday.” The man looked him in the eye and nodded once.

After a brief moment of stillness between them, the man rested a hand on his stomach and looked to Akira. Akira’s heart jolted, his first assumption that the man wanted to eat him. Akira mimicked him, resting a hand on his own stomach. The man nodded again and picked up the mask Akira hadn’t noticed on the ground. He raised it to his face but stopped. Looking to Akira, he covered his eyes with his free hand for a second, almost as if he were giving instructions. Akira tentatively mimicked him again, and his pulse quickened as he heard the leathery sound once more. There was a long howling from the mouth of the cave, then Akira sensed the man was gone. He uncovered his eyes and, after confirming he was in fact alone, took a moment to take in the natural formations of the cavernous space. His eyes came to rest on the mural again, and he found himself lost in it, down to the very brushstrokes.

The longer he stared, the closer he felt to the man. The art on this massive wall wasn’t for decoration. It was his story. As Akira understood it, the man was abandoned as an infant and left to fend for himself amongst humans. Each stage of his life was defined by the overarching hardship of the time until the day he apparently died. Here, the painting appeared to fade into nothing. Once Akira remembered where he was, he looked around to find the man—not the masked beast—crouched on the other side of the space, watching him cautiously, two makeshift plates of food sat between them.

Without truly knowing why, Akira stood and crossed the space to the man, offering his hand once he reached him. The man held Akira’s gaze with a calm confidence but reached for his hand timidly.

_This one is kind_. Akira could hear a deep, mellow voice. He looked around to find the speaker, but the only other living being was the man crouched in front of him. _Can he hear me?_ Akira looked around again, a bit more on edge. _He can. You can hear me!_

With wide eyes, Akira looked to the man whose hand he still grasped. “I-is that you?”

_Speaking? Yes._ He nodded eagerly but his lips didn’t move. _I always knew you’d return_. The man’s face changed. In the short few hours Akira had been acquainted with him, the man had maintained such a cool calmness, such a composed expression and demeanor that Akira was caught off guard by the vulnerable look in his eyes. The longer he held the man’s gaze, the more understanding washed over him. He had no idea why or how—the memories were far more abstract and without form. But he remembered this man.

He brushed his fingertips over the man’s cheek. It was as cold and soft as fresh snow. “Yusuke....” The name came to him suddenly, and the man smiled and leaned into his touch.

As he spoke his name, the memories flooded with color and emotions powerful enough to bring Akira to his knees. He held Yusuke’s gaze, but all he saw was the mural come to life, the part that was previously blank filling in like spilled water, a near replica of what was already there, but it was Akira’s own story.

  
He too was abandoned young and spent his short life fending for himself and those around him. He met Yusuke by chance, during an incidental skirmish between their two peoples, of all places. They’d fought each other viciously until the leaders decided to call it a draw until next time. Later that same day, Akira spotted him again and immediately positioned himself to attack. But his dagger was gone. No, not gone. It was in the stranger’s hand. Akira readied himself to fight to the death, but Yusuke calmly stepped closer. Halfway to his adversary, he turned the blade inward and offered him the handle with a compliment about how he was a worthy opponent.

After this, they met in passing with increasing frequency and soon began meeting intentionally. They hunted and played and ran errands together. For the first time in either boy’s life, he had a friend. But Fortune did not smile on them for long. They were caught together on one of their excursions. All sides called for execution: the opposing tribe on counts of espionage, their own tribes on counts of treason. “I will find you!” Akira had promised as they were dragged away, both determined to make good on it and not at all believing he could. They each served as their tribe’s sacrifice to the gods, Akira staked through the heart and set ablaze, Yusuke bound to a carved stone and thrown into the lake. There was famine amongst both tribes for each year the two had lived.

•••

They’d each woken up mere feet apart in a strange land, their memories lost until their hands met by chance as they worked together to survive. They were elated at the realization that they were more or less safe and together there. When they laughed, the sun shined brightly and a gentle breeze blew. When they cried, there were heavy rains or sleet. When they were angry, volcanoes erupted, entire lands flooded, and there was much destruction. They soon learned to keep their tempers in check, and the land prospered in a temperate climate for years, never too hot or cold.

But Mother Nature has little control over human nature. Perfect weather didn’t stop crime or war or any human atrocity, simply gave them one less thing to consider when they made their malicious plans. Both being overly familiar with the bad in man, they kept to themselves away from the villages. 

Even so, the people came. Soldiers. Yusuke had returned from the lake just in time to witness a man cut Akira down before a large army. In a blind fury, Yusuke rushed the men, beheading each and every one. He then cradled Akira’s head in his lap and wept bitterly until his companion’s corporeal form was no more. A dark emptiness now in his heart, he began to wander aimlessly.

In his travels, he met a young lonely shepherd who offered him a humble meal and place to sleep. Again by chance, their hands met, and the shepherd recognized him. And again, the land reaped the benefits of their joy at being reunited. The peace this time was broken by bandits passing through. They stormed the small house as the men slept and slayed Yusuke before he could even reach his weapon. Akira raged, his fury cursing the land to wither and die and his tongue cursing the men to wander it without end. He, too, traveled elsewhere.

On and on like this it went. They meet, there is an infinite springtime cut short by greedy humans, and a new wasteland is left in their wake. Where he had first taken his last breath in these new transcended forms, he instinctively knew to now be called Siberia; Yusuke’s first resting place, now known as the Gobi Desert. Each iteration of them struggling amongst man, meeting and delighting in each other, and being struck into deathly sleep filled Akira’s mind. “It’s been so long,” his voice was a solemn whisper. “Too long.”

_I have searched for you endlessly, my love._ And Akira knew it to be true. This one winter had lasted long enough to see nearly 60 cycles of the moon, and there was a strong fear in the village and others around that this would become the next ice age.

He rested his forehead against Yusuke’s and closed his eyes. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

_You are here now_. Their lips brushed before they met completely, and they knelt like this in each other’s embrace for what could’ve been a minute or a lifetime. It didn’t matter. They never knew how much time they would have together, and with the sheer amount of passion Akira himself felt, something in the pit of his stomach told him springtime wouldn’t last long this time.

They stood just outside the cave, taking in the serene expanse just before the treeline. _I suppose it is time I release this land_. Akira recalled the eons of this they had already gone through as they each undressed. They laid together for four days and three nights without regard for the outside world or human needs like food and drink. Finally satiated, they spent their days overseeing the land, caring for the passing animals, and watching the stars. They lost track of time in their contentment.

•••

One day, Yusuke spotted a group of men in the forest as he watched from the mountain peak. He told Akira of their approach immediately since they’d agreed to avoid human contact. After hearing the description of their appearances, Akira recognized them. Warriors from the village. They’d sent a search party. Noticing his panic, Yusuke planned to get rid of them.

“No!” Akira grabbed his arm. “They think there’s a monster on this mountain, and if they see you and find my stuff, they’ll attack.”

_We leave them be and they will find your things and further invade our sanctuary._

“Then I’ll go. I’m who they want.”

_They cannot have you._

“What other options do we have?”

Yusuke looked around and slowly reached for something the ground. _If it is a monster they want...._ He raised the mask to his face and transformed. He was out of the cave before Akira could even protest.

He could hear the men shouting just beyond the treeline. Yusuke continued to walk at a steady pace. The shouting grew nearer and nearer until finally he could make out the words “kill it.” With a throat-rending yell Akira bounded from the dark safety of the cave. He had a great distance left to cross when they spotted him running and screaming no. Yusuke turned to look at him, and that’s when it happened. 

As the arrow lodged itself into Yusuke’s chest, Akira could feel the stake driving through his own all those centuries ago. Their eyes never left each other’s as they both fell to the ground. Akira desperately crawled over to him, his chest still rising and falling shakily. He frantically grabbed his love’s inhuman hands and begged him to stay with him.

_I will find you_ echoed in Akira’s mind as the steely eyes flashed gold before turning a deeper gray, a lifeless gray. Akira shook the hands still in his grasp, desperately hoping to wake him but knowing it was all in vain. When the man didn't stir, Akira's eyes overflowed, and he cried into the man's still chest as the last remnants of snow melted into the earth.

•••  
  


That was nearly a year ago, and for the first time, instead of wrath, he felt only sorrow. It rained heavily at the same time every evening the entire summer. Too heartbroken to go through this all over again, Akira had spent the time in town secretly preparing to return to the mountain and join the man forever, though he told his friends he was only getting back to hunting. “They did slay the monster after all,” he would remind them, a twinge in his chest each time.

He makes his way back to the cave, the memories of the paths growing stronger with every tree he passes. He reaches the entrance and sets his things down, almost feeling the fire they had sat around all those nights, Yusuke's unfinished painting acting as an obituary on the cave wall. He steps back out and kneels in the exposed dirt, cherishing one last sunset. When the sky turns the color of the sea, he takes a deep breath and pulls out his dagger. Just as he lifts it, he sees what he thinks is a mirage of snow spreading across the bleak expanse of the mountain, and just as clarity begins to set in, he hears muffled footsteps and the sound of dragging fabric coming from behind him, a deep rumbling sound and an immense joy washing over him.

**Author's Note:**

> The plan was for this to be pure angst because that’s a notable trait of mine I guess. But I left my brain to its own devices, it woke me up at 4 AM, and now we have a sort of mythology here and a lovely not so ambiguous ending like I seem to like. Exciting. Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
